


Ostinato

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Community: sentinel_thurs, M/M, Movie Night, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2020-03-09 07:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Jim and Blair settle down on the couch to watchJawstogether.





	Ostinato

**Author's Note:**

> written for Sentinel Thursday challenge 474 - tooth/teeth
> 
>  
> 
> 1) I had a pair of fossilized shark's tooth earrings, bought many years ago. The teeth dangled from inch-long chains so they swung around whenever I moved my head. One tooth was the color of caramel, the other tooth was the color of ivory. I have never loved wearing any earrings as much as I loved wearing my shark's teeth. They were, in some mysterious way, oddly comforting. Or maybe I mean "empowering". Hmm. 
> 
> 2) There are many adverbs in this fic. Many, many, oh so many adverbs. I would apologize profusely for the excess, except that would add another adverb, wouldn't it? :-)
> 
> 3) The title is because I was thinking about the _Jaws_ music and Googled it, and Wikipedia described it as "revolving around an ostinato of bass notes", and so I looked up ostinato. Wikipedia again: "In music, an ostinato (derived from Italian: stubborn, compare English: 'obstinate') is a motif or phrase that persistently repeats in the same musical voice, usually at the same pitch. The best-known ostinato-based piece may be Ravel's Boléro… Strictly speaking, ostinati should have exact repetition, but in common usage, the term covers repetition with variation and development, such as the alteration of an ostinato line to fit changing harmonies or keys."
> 
> Hello, Jim. Howdy, Blair.

Jim watched the overfilled bowl of popcorn in Blair's hands with a certain amount of trepidation as Blair executed a sock-feet slide across the floor from the kitchen area towards the couch. Sandburg and (more to the point) snack arrived safely, however, and the popcorn landed on the coffee table, while Blair landed on the couch next to Jim.

Blair, slightly revised. Clearly he'd been busy while Jim was in the shower; at dinner his ear had been sporting both its usual gleaming hoops. Now, however…

Jim rolled his eyes. "Cute," he said, giving a pointed glance to Blair's earlobe. 

"Fossilized shark's tooth," Blair replied helpfully, tilting his head back against the couch so that — presumably — Jim could get a better look at the replacement earring.

Or at the long, luscious column of his bared throat. Whatever.

"So if we were watching _The Shining_ instead of _Jaws,_ that would be a tiny metal axe dangling from your ear?"

"I don't have an axe earring, Jim." Blair sounded mildly affronted, but he left his head relaxed back against the couch cushions. His thigh was a solid line of heat pressed against Jim's thigh.

His elbow, naturally, was pressing against Jim's ribs. Not pointedly just yet, but waiting there on alert, ready to nudge —

— annnd nudging. What a surprise. "Hey," he said, his elbow moving in on Jim with another nudge, "the movie's starting. Turn up the sound."

There were traces of salt and butter glistening on his lips; he never could resist sampling the popcorn when it was fresh out of the microwave.

The same traces would be on his fingers.

His usefully agile, restless fingers, which were currently tapping out some kind of code on his thighs. 

"Jim, movie. Volume. Up?"

The collar of his Henley was unbuttoned, revealing an inviting patch of skin and the leading edge of Blair's scruffy chest hair. Revealing, also, the fading yellow edge of one of the bruises he'd accumulated last week when Lawson Gates' hopped-up roommate had pushed him down the stairs.

"Earth to Jim. C'mon, man, give me the remote if you're not going to —

"— oh," Blair said. "Seriously? _Now?_ I've been waiting all week to watch this, you can't wait two hours?"

"Tell you what happens," Jim muttered distractedly as he shifted so he could get a better angle to zero in on the exposed skin at the base of Blair's throat. "Big, pissed-off shark. Lots of…" 

"Okay, yeah, _teeth,_ " Blair said in a groan, as Jim bit down with careful force on one of his favorite spots, where he could leave a nicely satisfying mark without forcing Blair into turtlenecks for a week. "Teeth," Blair said again, breathlessly this time. "Got it."

"Mmm," Jim answered. "Good." He lifted his head just enough to examine his handiwork — tooth work, actually, followed by a little tongue work; he'd get to _hand_ work later on — and smiled to himself. That was a much better mark for Blair to be carrying around than last week's fucking bruises.

A few more marks couldn't hurt, either. He set back to work.

"Yeah." Blair's voice sounded a little strangled. "We can always rent it. Some..." A full-body shiver silenced him briefly. "Um. Sometime. Not like I don't — _shit_ — don't know what happens…"

Jim pulled his mouth away from Blair's heated skin, just for a moment. "Not like you can't recite the dialog word for word, you mean," he said agreeably.

"Hey, it's a —"

"Classic." Jim's eyes found their way back to Blair's fading bruise. "A classic cautionary story. Moral: stay out of the water." Not like Blair ever would, of course. He talked big about being some kind of wuss, but he'd never let that stop him yet. There were bound to be more bruises.

More fucking bruises.

"What? No, no, that's totally not the —" Blair interrupted himself with a sound that bypassed Jim's ears and headed straight for his groin. 

Jim let his tongue soothe the skin he'd just bitten down on, enjoying the temporary new geography of the indentations his teeth had left.

"Not the…" Blair took in a breath and expelled it raggedly. "Not the point of the movie. Jim, if you're trying to kill me here, I gotta tell you I think it's working."

"Good," Jim murmured, his lips brushing against Blair's skin. Time to stop worrying about bruises that hadn't happened yet. He eyed the enticing line of Blair's throat appraisingly. The weather was getting colder; Blair shouldn't mind wearing turtlenecks. 

Not too much, anyway. Time to stop worrying and to take this horizontal. But first…

The sound Blair made this time was so low in his throat Jim had no choice but to chase after it.

Salt, butter, popcorn, lust, Blair. He ran his tongue across Blair's teeth then sent it in appreciative exploration deeper into Blair's mouth. That sound had to be down there somewhere. Tomorrow could take care of tomorrow. Tonight?

Just salt, butter, popcorn, lust, Blair…

And another mark or two or ten. Blair didn't seem to mind, after all.


End file.
